


Over Easy

by apathys_whore



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Kink Meme, M/M, Oviposition, i am trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 15:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4398044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apathys_whore/pseuds/apathys_whore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink meme fill: "Give me an AU where everything is the same except war boys reproduce by laying eggs (and conceive by anal sex). Nux is taking on the task of carrying his first clutch of eggs, while his loyal partner, Slit (who's had several clutches before), walks him through everything.</p><p>+ if Nux tries to build a nest for the eggs."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would love it if anyone wants to give me some names for War Pups. I'll credit you and everything.

It’s been said that under any circumstances, life will find a way to continue. So when, in the early days after the founding of the Citadel, one of Joe’s underlings started laying egg, he shrugged it off as a quirk of the radiation that now plagued the Earth. The odd hatchlings (surprisingly viable humans) grew and laid eggs of their own and so on (as life’s one objective is to replicate itself), breeding significantly and bolstering the Immortan’s army. At this point it was considered odd if a War Boy couldn’t lay a clutch in honor of their leader. It was their duty now to provide him with more solders so that there would never be a shortage of hands to keep the Citadel running. 

Just shy of 7000 days, an eager Nux was finally old enough to produce a clutch of his own (though he had probably fathered a few clutches but it didn’t feel the same). Currently he was in the repair bay tinkering with the engine of the rig he and his lancer Slit had been building. Slit was older by a solid 1000 days, just over 8000 himself. And about 220 days heavy with a clutch of his own. They expected he would lay them any day now, if his distended abdomen was anything to go by.

“What’s it like, having all those eggs inside you?” he asked, glancing over at his lancer.

“Don’t see why you’re so excited about it. Bit of a pain, really,” Slit said, affixing explosives to a lance. “Can’t do War after 115 days of them inside you. Just grunt work. Then brooding. All that soft stuff.”  
Nux scoffed, checking the tension on the engine belt, “That’s why you’re having your third clutch then?” he said wryly.

“I just like fucking is all,” Slit replied, setting aside the finished lance.

“I’ll say. Getting you tank filled at 5800 days like that,” Nux said, closing the hood of his rig and sitting next to his Lancer.

“Weren’t that bad. Gotten worse falling off the rig ‘cause of your rust driving,” he teased back.

Nux laughed, playfully shoving Slit. “I’m a chrome driver and you know it. Remember how you could hardly walk because of the cramping with your first spawn? Organic was surprised you passed all three of them. And that they lived,” he said, reminiscing about Slit’s first clutch. Generally speaking, it was a bad idea to have a clutch before 7000 days. Unlike normal women (who still struggled despite their wider pelvis) War Boys still maintained their more masculine, narrow hips, making it not only painful but dangerous to have a clutch before they were fully grown. Some (like Slit) were broader than others and got lucky, able to (barely) pass eggs before they had grown enough to safely have them.

“Some good it did me,” Slit said, “having to take care of them in the egg bay for 37 days.”

“You’re just talking,” Nux said, brushing off his partner’s attitude as the bravado that it was. “You’re all soft for them,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to Slit’s scarred cheek.

“Oi, now who’s all soft?” he said, playfully snapping his teeth at Nux’s ear. It wasn’t unusual for a driver and a lancer to form a close bond, and was even encouraged to some extent. The closer you were, the better you were able to interpret your partner’s needs in battle and give them the optimum advantage over the enemy. However, some might consider Nux and Slit to be unusually close, even for such a gifted team. Though not exclusive by any means, they preferred each other’s touch over anyone else’s. It was hard for them to describe (not that they ever would) with their limited War Boy vocabulary, why they were so devoted to each other. Slit had been born as a single egg with no older or younger siblings to rely on. At 1800 days old, his bearer had gone to Valhalla, leaving him to fend for himself. After some time alone, he had gone out of his way to protect Nux back when he was still just a gangly, somewhat spastic pup. In turn, Nux had been the only on to put up with Slit’s bad temper, demonstrating seemingly infinite patients towards his outburst. In that time, they learned the give and take of relationships, the rise and fall of emotions between two people, when to bow to another’s will and when to stand firm, and how to come to a compromise that would please both parties. Slit understood Nux and his need for motion, for speed, that Nux constantly felt the clock on their half lives running down, his need to fit as much living in as he could. Nux wasn’t bothered by Slit’s quick temper, easily brushed off his sharp remarks. Pessimistic since birth, Slit’s gloomy and doubtful nature could really begin to irritate most of the other War Boys. Not only that, but he held everyone to the highest standard and didn’t understand why you wouldn’t completely throw yourself into your work, devote yourself to your craft like he had with lancing and scaring. He knew that Slit would keep wheedling until everything was just right, with no room for anyone he considered subpar.

“Slit! Slit!” a tiny voice carried over the din of the repair bay.

“See what I mean? Never a moments peace with the little scrap chewers.” Slit said, doing his best to feign annoyance as a white painted pup scurried to them.

One of the reasons Nux was so excited to have his own pups was because, on a few occasions, he had overheard some of the older War Boys whispering to each other about how special it felt to watch your own tiny pups grow into strong warriors. That it was a strange connection, more powerful than any lancer/driver bond. While that seemed impossible, if not downright heretical, he couldn’t deny the way Slit tried to hide his joy at interacting with his own pups. The way he would bite at the scar tissue on the insides of his cheeks to keep from smiling every time he saw them. And if it could make Slit go all soft and gentle, it really must be something special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha guess who climbed out of their 3 year depression hole? It's me! I saw this prompt and said shit that's adorable. I'm gonna write that. Also this is the first time I've ever tried to write something that isn't an angst pile so cross your fingers nothing goes wrong! Sorry it's a little Slit centric right now. It's called plot development god! And not just because I'm really into the idea of the Lizard King laying eggs. THAT'S NOT IT AT ALL GOD! Seriously though give me names for all the precious marshmallow babies for some reason I'm bad at coming up with War Boy names.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! If you want you can find me on tumblr as http://rainbow-smite.tumblr.com/ I'm a sad baby who does not know how to hyperlink. Okay, name credit times!
> 
> DigitalMoriarty suggested Cosh (it’s a term for a weapon and slang for antipsychotic drug so I latched on to that right away, lol).
> 
> DahliaVanDare said it would be a fun idea to include pop culture references in the form of Speed Racer and said Spridle. I agreed.
> 
> TheFexerd (and maybe their boyfriend) suggested Zeck. I liked that because not all of the names have to be a preexisting thing. They can just be names *shrugs*.
> 
> Wrought is mine because I’m a pretentious douche.
> 
> Tarsal and Screech were suggested by an anon on the original kinkmeme. I then was an asshole and promptly thought they said Shriek instead of Screech and that sort of stuck. Tarsal (the word) I’m familiar with through anatomy. It’s a bone in the feets I believe. And it sounds cool to me? 
> 
> I tried to do everybody gets one pup name but I dropped the ball. I’m eternally grateful for the help in that department. If you’d like I might need more names later so you can keep suggesting them. I’ll always give credit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blech, I feel like both chapters so far need some work. It's not _bad_ per se, it just needs some polish. Better flow and more description. I've done some work on this once since first posting it but I'm not done yet. I'm afraid the first chapter might be a train wreck so I haven't even started to fix that one yet. Okay, business time. No one uses father/mother because the Immortan is everyone's daddy. That's canon. I doubt he'd let them refer to anyone but himself as that because allowing anyone aside from himself to be a parent would take away from his power. I'm not gonna go with mother either because mothers are the soft lady things that live up in the vault and have one single baby that doesn't come from an egg.

"Slit!" The tiny voice continued, more persistent now. It was Cosh, Slit’s First. Nux remembered when, after 37 days, he’d sat with Slit in the egg bay, watching for hours as slowly the pups cracked their way out of their shells. Cosh was the first to break free, being the first egg that had been laid. He’d watched as a tiny, claw tipped finger broke through the ridged shell, nine other digits following suit to make a fisher along the circumference of the egg.

“Why can’t we open them ourselves?” he’d asked after the pup inside had stilled for the moment, resting.

“Need to do it themselves. Slowly get used to life outside the egg. Besides, they need to learn to fight for what they want. Gonna be War Boys someday.” All the same, Slit had reached out to carefully stroke the tiny fingers. Smiled when it reacted by twitching. After what seemed like a life time, their waiting was rewarded with three healthy pups. Cosh, Shriek, and Wrought. All damp and pink skinned, Nux had been too afraid to touch them having never held anything so fragile before. A pup wasn’t like an engine; he couldn’t fix it if he broke it. That, however, was a phobia he was going to have to get over if he was going to have his own.

Nux watched as Cosh dodged around the erratic movement and flying sparks in the repair bay. Idly he had to wonder if any of Slit's pups would have their bearer's strange gift for movement.  Nux had seen Slit do things with his body that, while not necessarily good for war, were fascinating it watch. It was like Slit had complete control over each individual muscle in his body, raw power coiled tight and ready to snap with each movement. Other times it could be slow, lascivious, and coordinated to draw attention. Unfortunately Slit was a bit weighted down by eggs at the moment to any sort of flashy posing.

Generally all the pups looked the same to Nux, especially in the dull blue light of the repair bay. None of them had any of the distinguishing scars or nuanced pant that used to tell War Boys apart. Though, if he bothered to look long enough, he could see some of Slit’s features in miniature when he studied them closely. Cosh had the same angular jaw ending in a round but blunt chin, the same deep set eyes the color aqua cola in the dark. Nux watched as said pup scurried around the rigs in repair and weaved in between the War Boys coming and going, finally coming to a stop in front of them.

“What do you want, pup?” Slit asked, trying his best to seem like he wasn’t that interested. “We’re busy.” Which was only sort of lie.

“Shriek is sick,” Cosh replied, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking up at them expectantly. Instantly he could see the change in Slit’s demeanor, from fake exasperation to a nervous unease. And Nux knew why. It wasn’t unheard of for a pup to come down with lumps and night fevers. He’d seen bearers and their pups grouped together in mourning when they lost one to disease. The Boys who’d lost pups never seemed the same afterwards, always standoffish and quiet, clinging to their remaining brood. He’d hate to see that happen to Slit and his litters. Nux could see his fingers were now gripping the edge of the stone bench they were seated on, as if in anticipation of news so bad the world might actually move. “What kinda sick?” Slit finally asked, his inflection slow and suspicious, as if secretly he had suspected this would happen all along. 

“Leaky nose sick.” Cosh said innocently back, having completely missed the fear that had so quickly crept over them. Nux watched as the tension drained out of his lancer, fingers abandoning their grip on the rough stone under them. Minor ills were common among pups. You could always expect one to be coughing or puking in a corner, litter mates patting their back and shoving them somewhere to rest. As a First, it was Cosh’s duty to keep their bearer informed about all of his siblings. Slit patted his pup on the head, simple affection enough of a reward in a world as harsh as theirs. “He drinking his aqua cola?” he asked, voice back to its normal cadence.

“No, says his throat hurts too much to swallow," Cosh continued to report.

Slit rolled his eyes. “All right, let me go straighten him out,” he said, frustrated. Nux watched and tried not to smile as Slit struggled a bit to stand, the bulk of his eggs working against him. For the most part pups took care of themselves and each other to a certain point. Freshly hatched pups were minded almost exclusively by the bearer for the first 30 or so days, then largely left to the care of older siblings or pups who were older but didn’t have any siblings underneath them. That isn’t to say though that the bearer had nothing to do with their pups afterwards, however. It was normal to see packs of them trailing after War Boys in the halls or being taught war in various parts of the Citadel.

Nux followed Slit and Cosh through the twisting halls of the Citadel. Despite its meandering and sometimes convoluted twists and curves, he knew every corridor, every darkened nook and cranny as well as he knew the intricate parts of the sacred V8 engine itself. He often wondered what incredible act of god had managed to tunnel through the solid rock. How they had hollowed it out so that those blessed enough by the Immortan may make their home there. Reverently he ran his hand along the rough stone as he walked, listening to the sold thud of Slit’s boots ahead of him and the quieter, quicker tap of Cosh’s footfalls, five little taps to every one solid thud. Nux remembered being small, dressed in oversized pants and boots. You learned at a young age to never wander the dim halls without proper footwear, no matter how cumbersome the work boots made you. He’d seen plenty of pups with feet shredded from accidentally treading on anything from stray knives to hot metal.

Finally they made it to where Slit’s pups were gathered. The four of them were hanging around in front of one of the pools of water that naturally formed in the caverns from leaky pipes and runoff. Depending on the source, the water might trickle through the sands and rock, the particulate filtering it to a point where it were potable. Wrought was attempting to skip stones across the water while Spridle, Zeck, and Tarsal (the second clutch) sat around Shriek who was curled up miserably like a dead lizard in the midday sun, attempting to alleviate the heat from his fever by laying on the cold stone. “Come on, Shriek. You can’t just lay there and waste away,”  Slit said, authoritative voice cutting through the quiet and vaguely somber atmosphere. 

Shriek broke into a wet cough before lifting his head to glare at Cosh. “Nark,” he rasped, voice thick with sickness.

“Whiner,” Cosh snapped back.

“You can fight when he’s better," Slit said, putting an immediate end to any arguing that might have ensued. "That water clean?” he finished, gesturing to the nearby pool of water. Wrought cupped his hand and dipped it in, bringing the water to his small mough. Sometimes water would go bad just sitting in one place like that, other times it could be contaminated by various chemical runoff from anything from guzzoline to whatever they put on the green stuff to help it grow. “S’clean,” Wrought said back after taking a sip.

Slit unhooked a small tin cup from one of his many belts. Dull with rust, it had a small, straight handle with 3/4ths cup stamped into the metal. He crouched (with some difficulty) in front of the small pool. “Come on, you gotta drink,” he insisted, dipping the cup in the water. Shriek, for his part, only curled tighter in on himself and grunted in dissent. “Fine then,” Slit said, frustrated with the stubborn pup, “guess I’ll have to drag you to the Organic Mechanic. Maybe he has a needle full of something that’ll make you better.” He said as he stood back up. Instantly six pairs of tiny eyes focused on Slit, doubtlessly thinking of the salivating man and his bandolier of wicked medical instruments. No one went to the OM unless there was no other option. It was a well known fact that you generally came out worse than when you went in.

Shriek stared at Slit with his eyes wide, trying to assess if the threat was real. Slit glowered back, puckered scars and frowning lips ominous in the low light. The black smeared across his brow drew attention to his focused, narrowed eyes, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. Certainly he made for a terrifying picture, even to his own pups. Cajoled by the silent challenge, Shriek uncurled himself and took the proffered cup, quickly drinking down the water it contained. “Good," Slit nodded.   "Make sure he keeps doing that or everybody goes to the Organic for a tune up,” he threatened. Suddenly there was a commotion as the other five pups swarmed Shriek, all desperately urging him to drink. “I swear to Joe I will throw you in the deepest pit of aqua cola I can find myself if we have to see the Organic because of you, Shriek!” Wrought snapped at his brother.

Last to hatch in the first clutch, Wrought was the pup that had the closest personality to Slit. Cosh was surprisingly laid back and (thankfully) responsible. Which was good because Shriek was only slightly less abrasive and argumentative than Wrought, but he made up for it with volume. He’d been the loudest pup since hatching and continued to be so. Nux swore he was as loud as the Doof Wagon sometimes.

When it came to the second clutch, it was sort of hard to get to know them, mostly because he had a hard time understanding them. They about 1100 days so, while they could talk, it was hard to understand what they were saying if you didn’t spend a lot of time with them. Thankfully their older brothers were always willing to translate when one went on a tangent about something. Even though they never actually had anything important to say. Nux also felt a little awkward around the younger set because Trasal’s eyes were a suspiciously familiar shade of blue. “Doesn’t matter. He’s my pup. I’m the only person he belongs to,” Slit had said when Nux finally had the courage to bring it up. Still, he felt he should be a little more responsible for them even though whoever sired a clutch had nothing to do with the resulting offspring. Mostly likely it was because it was highly unusual to know who the sire was. Maybe when he had his own pups he’d understand better. “Come on, Nux. We gotta get back to work.” Slit said, interrupting his thoughts. Nux threw one last glance at the mass of pups before he followed his lancer. On the way back to the repair bay Nux had to ask, “you weren’t really gonna take any of them to the Organic, were you?” It seemed like a bit like an overreach to take a pup there just because his nose was leaking.

“Nah. But if you don’t want them to do something stupid, you gotta put a little fear in ‘em. Keeps ‘em outta trouble,” Slit said, expression mischievous. Slit was surprisingly good at pup raising, Nux decided. He’d have to listen to what he said when he had his own clutch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When bird babs hatch, they have what's called an egg tooth. It's a hard little spike thing that's attached to end of the beak. After hatching it eventually falls off. So in order to get out of eggs, I figure pups would have egg claws instead of egg teeth. 
> 
> Also, pools of water do happen in the Citadel. In the scene where Max is running from the War Boys inside the fortress he runs through a big pool of water that sort of looks like it just settled in valley of a natural incline from a leak or something. 
> 
> The cup Slit keeps with him is a measuring cup. I figured it goes well with all the repurposing that happens at the Citadel. 
> 
> My friend pointed out that in the scene when OM was doing the C section on Angharad he had an enormous amount of saliva pouring out of his mouth. The OM is disgusting and sadistic. We’re getting married on Tuesday and you’re all invited! We’re gonna violate all the codes of ethics.
> 
> Aw geez, sorry for all the late. I’ve had a strangely busy month and kept getting sidetracked. Highlights included accidentally wandering into a gay bar in Madison, WI, were my sister got black out drunk and made best friends with all the gay guys. A disastrous beach trip in the cold and the rain (it was hilarious and I bought an inflatable stingray who is my son now). And my fourth KMFDM concert where I bonded with people over Mad Max and got tsunamied by a mosh pit. I’m a 5 ft. even butter ball with glasses so I was like shit shit shit lemme out! But it was still fun. I watched a crowd surfer get his crotch rammed into the back of an annoyed guy’s head for like 3 minutes it was glorious. Okay, back to business. You guys are just the sweetest group of people! I was not expecting nearly the outpouring of interest that I got! Another thing I wasn’t expecting is how many people have lists of names for War Boys/Pups. I got a baby book worth of names. I’m really glad though the only names I thought of were weird ones like Null, Bitter, and Void. And I was like nooo you probably have to pick some words that they would actually know the meaning of? I don’t think my vocabulary and theirs would overlap much. I always try to make things fancy and highfalutin and that does not fit in this universe.

**Author's Note:**

> Haha guess who climbed out of their 3 year depression hole? It's me! I saw this prompt and said shit that's adorable. I'm gonna write that. Also this is the first time I've ever tried to write something that isn't an angst pile so cross your fingers nothing goes wrong! Sorry it's a little Slit centric right now. It's called plot development god! And not just because I'm really into the idea of the Lizard King laying eggs. THAT'S NOT IT AT ALL GOD! Next chapter is some light smut with Nux trying to make eggs. Seriously though give me names for all the precious marshmallow babies for some reason I'm bad at coming up with War Boy names.


End file.
